


With Veins of Gold

by Dragestil



Series: We are Broken, We are Whole [8]
Category: The Yogscast
Genre: Fallen Angel Shit, M/M, Past Character Death, Threats of Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 03:16:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4730831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dragestil/pseuds/Dragestil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tom must make amends, and now at last is his chance.</p>
            </blockquote>





	With Veins of Gold

**Author's Note:**

> More of that series with those characters no one cares about and the Sirs! Huzzah! I recommend a healthy post-rock playlist while listening.

Tom kept Sam close to his side long after Teutron had gone. He waited in front of the abandoned bookstore and gathered himself. This had by far been the easier of the two meetings. Now it was time to truly face his past to finish this ugly affair. For his part, the android attempted to be a strong companion, squeezing the angel’s hand when it fell into his and lacing their fingers together. Together they could face anything surely.

“We should go. My... _colleague_ won’t appreciate if we’re late, not when he’s doing me a favour. Can’t go ending up back in his debt. At least not until this is sorted,” Tom muttered, finally shaking himself from his thoughts and turning away from where the demon had disappeared.

“Where are we meeting him?”

“Not far, just ‘round the corner actually. Didn’t want the two accidentally running into each other but didn’t want them anywhere near our place. They can’t get into much trouble out here. Mortals don’t ever spend much time in these parts.”

Sam let the conversation fade away as Tom’s face hardened. He tried not to notice the way the other man’s grip tightened or the way every muscle in his body seemed to pull taut - ready for a fight. After all, he could simply be imagining things, reading into signs that weren’t even there. He was not, however, imagining the man in a crisp suit standing just in front of an old warehouse.

“Angor, what a pleasure to see you again! And with a friend, no less. How have you been?”

“Oh you know, busy, this and that always coming up.”

“This and that?”

“Bedgar, please, we have business.”

“Of course,” the angel said, deferring to his fallen counterpart with a too sweet smile and a wave of his hand. “What trouble have you caused this time?”

“I haven’t-”

Sam settled his free hand on Tom’s inner elbow, stilling him instantly. The tallest of the trio took a deep breath and pushed down the bitter indignance that rose in his throat. He had to keep his cool. He couldn’t let this simpering servant from Above get under his skin. There was too much at stake. What would Sam think if he failed?

“There was an incident with two fae. I will be needing them back.”

“Needing them back?” Bedgar laughed, cold and harsh. “Fae aren’t toys that can be fixed when you’ve broken them. You can’t just have them _returned_ like lost clothes, Angor. Surely you remember at least that much.”

“Don’t,” Tom spoke carefully, tone measured to stay just shy of seeming discourteous, “patronise me, Bedgar. We were friends once.”

“Is that what it was? I had _forgotten_.”

It took only the blink of an eye. Sam was suddenly standing alone, and Tom had the angel pinned by the throat to a rough brick wall. His sword burned on his back though he hadn’t yet reached for it. Bedgar laughed again.

“You always did have a temper. Has your little friend seen this side of you yet? He looks _afraid_.”

Tom’s head snapped back to look at the android. The colour drained from his face as he dropped Bedgar and stepped back, glancing down at his hand as if disbelieving his own actions. Sam closed the distance between them and pressed instantly into his chest. Cool arms wrapped around the fallen angel’s torso as lips pressed against his neck.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Sam whispered. “I’m not.”

“Their bodies are already being restored. You _will_ get me their souls. You have the rest of the hour. Send them to the graveyard then, the one by the old cathedral.”

“What’s in this for me?”

“You wouldn’t just do a favour for an old _friend_?” Tom asked, lips twisted into a cruel smile.

“Everything has a price - souls and friendship included.”

“You do this, I keep your secrets safe another lifetime.”

“Angor,” the angel said, voice suddenly low as his eyes darkened.

“I’m not one of you lot anymore. No codes to keep me from telling all the things you don’t want them to know. I think there are some who would be very interested in-”

“That’s enough. You’ll get them. But I will hunt you down if you break your word, and I _will_ make you suffer.”

“I expect nothing less.”

Tom didn’t wait for Bedgar to respond. He slid his hand back into Sam’s and tugged the shorter man away. He didn’t look back though he could hear the other angel chuckle behind them. He needed to get to the cathedral to make sure everything was in order. They were close now, and he couldn’t risk it all falling apart at the end. These weren’t favours he could call in twice.

Sam let his angel have silence for the walk to the cathedral. Instead of talking, he kept himself busy drawing on the back of Tom’s hand with one finger. He doodled sigils he remembered seeing around the apartment and had felt the angel draw on him when he was meant to be dormant. He didn’t really know what any of them meant, but he hoped all of his wishes for Tom to be safe would be enough to protect him.

“That one isn’t for people,” Tom commented as Sam paused in the middle of doodling one he had seen on the balcony doors.

“Huh?”

“That one isn’t meant for people. It’s to protect a home.”

“Oh. That’s fine then,” Sam replied easily, earning him a thoroughly confused glance. “You’re home.”

Tom swallowed the knot in his throat and looked into the distance. He couldn’t meet the bright eyes staring up at him. There would be time for emotions when they were done, he told himself. Right now there was work to do. He steadied his gaze as they stopped in front of the cathedral. He kept his free hand up while they slipped through the gate to the path that led behind to the cemetery. He had seen the movement on the scaffolding, the tell-tale sign that someone was watching them. He didn’t need a kelpie’s misplaced rage throwing everything off. They were so close now.

Amidst the headstones, Teutron was at work. One body already lay beneath a white sheet among the grass and weeds, but the other remained unfinished. The demon was hunched over his subject with a thin paintbrush. He didn’t look up at the approaching footsteps or acknowledge his audience. Instead, he kept to his work, grabbing bits of rubble from a bucket with one hand and sealing them to the body with the paintbrush in his other. It was painstaking work, and he triple checked every piece before it was placed. At last, he seemed satisfied.

“Do you approve?” he asked, looking back over his shoulder at Tom.

“I’m not the final judge, Teutron,” the angel answered, “but you continue to impress me with your work.”

“Great. Then I’ll be off. Don’t like the look of that cathedral at all - in use or not.”

Tom just nodded and waved the man off before approaching the two bodies. He knelt down and pulled back the sheet that had been hiding Trott. The selkie looked like he had just fallen asleep, his lips quirked up in a small smile. It did nothing to quell Tom’s nausea or to still the trembling in his hands. He looked quickly away, staring at neglected graves and praying for relief. Sam’s hand settled on the back of his shoulder.

“Are they okay now?”

“Almost. Bedgar should be coming to restore their souls to their bodies soon. Then...then I’ll be done.”

Sam nodded though Tom couldn’t see him. He was just as ready for this to be behind them. It had haunted his memory banks ever since he heard the news. He would close his eyes and hear screams, perfect digital replicas of voices he knew so well. He was glad he could not get sick for the way his processors churned at the thoughts.

“Are these them?” Bedgar said, appearing from behind a gnarled old tree. “They don’t look too battered. You kill them quietly?”

“I wasn’t going to have them brought back the way they went. I have contacts, you know that.”

“Of course. I am one.” There was a moment of tense silence when the angels’ gazes met. “Shall I put them back then?”

“Yes, but don’t wake them.”

“You wanna do that yourself?”

“No. But I know who will.”

“Fine. Suit yourself.”

The angel knelt down first beside the reconstructed gargoyle and pressed his lips to a stone ear. He whispered something as he settled his hand on the man’s chest before shifting to repeat the process with the selkie. He drew quick sigils on both of their necks and stood, brushing unseen dust from his immaculate clothing.

“Best of luck, Angor. You’ll be needing it,” Bedgar breathed with a smile. “And don’t forget your promise.”

Tom sighed and gave the two bodies one more look. He didn’t need to see the other angel leave to feel his presence vanish. He had more important things to focus on anyway, like the man descending the scaffolding with a knife in his hand.

“Sam, stay behind me,” Tom murmured as he placed himself between the android and the approaching kelpie.

“Tom, don’t-”

“It’s going to be fine, Sam. Just stay there and let me handle this.”

“Told you to stay the fuck away, _Tom_ ,” Smith growled, the angel’s name as sharp as the dagger - one of Trott’s - the kelpie wielded.

“I know, and I will. But this has to be done first.”

“Haven’t you _done_ enough?”

Tom winced at the words and recoiled, bumping into the android still behind him. He didn’t run though, and he kept his gaze trained on Smith’s wild eyes. It was hard to see him and know this was the same man whose laughter could bring the entire coffee shop to life. He seemed so ragged, so hollow with an unshaven face and threadbare clothes.

“I’m fixing this. I’m fixing it all. Just come here and see.”

Smith was too exhausted, despite his bravado, to argue against the angel. He stepped closer and peered around the man’s shoulders to see what lay on the ground. His breathing stopped and before he could catch himself he was tumbling forward, dropping his weapon to one side and scrambling on hands and knees to the small gap between his lovers’ bodies. He rested a hand on each of their chests as he turned back to look at Tom, desperate to know that his eyes were not lying.

But the bodies beneath his touch were solid, and he could feel the steady rhythm of Trott’s heart beneath the fingers of his left hand. He stared down at Ross and froze. Every crack and fracture had been meticulously repaired with gold-infused lacquer. His fingers ran slowly along the chaotic network that mapped the damage Tom had done.

“They’re okay?”

“They will be. Should be waking up soon too. I’m going to...go now. You said it yourself, I’ve done enough now.”

Tom let Sam take his hand and guide him toward the gate. He felt distant, like all of the ties binding him to the earth had suddenly been loosed and he was adrift with only the android’s cool fingers to ground him. He focused on the pinpricks of electricity that were constantly fizzling beneath Sam’s smooth skin. He only just heard a hoarse voice calling out after them.

“Thank you.”

 


End file.
